


Needle Me One More Time

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [43]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, He just wants pizza, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Injuries, Monster of the Week, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, Protective Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, Stiles doesn't like needles, Tumblr Prompt, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25173904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: When Stiles gets hurt, Derek decides to take care of him. The only problem? 'Care' involves stitches.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 28
Kudos: 538





	Needle Me One More Time

The thing was, Stiles didn’t actually get hurt.

Okay, he did. A little. There was a witch and flying balls of energy and before Stiles could even attempt to take her out with his baseball bat, he was being blasted into the nearest tree, a giant smoldering hole in his favorite red sweatshirt.

Faintly, he heard Scott shout his name, Derek roar in anger, and then the chaos died down. Stiles’s stomach clenched and he didn’t even have to look over to know what happened.

He saw it on Derek’s claws as the man moved over, face pale, and panic in his eyes.

Scott reached him first.

“Stiles! Stiles, dude, are you okay? Oh shit, that’s blood. Stiles, are you bleeding?”

“No, Scotty,” Stiles said, shifting with a groan. He didn’t want to look down but he was pretty sure it wasn’t good. Not fatal, probably, but definitely bad enough to get a lecture from his dad. And maybe be grounded for the rest of his life. There was a thin line between those two things. “I’m just oozing out awesomeness. Hey, is the rest of the world spinning, or is it just me?”

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Derek said, leaning down. Before Stiles even had a chance to argue, the man was picking him up bridal style and starting toward where they had parked the cars. Stiles still made a loud noise of protest and twisted a little, until the pain made him groan and slump back into Derek’s arms. 

“No, Derek, no hospital.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m mildly injured,” Stiles said, twisting again. This time, he bit back a noise of pain. “See, only a bit of blood! Put me down, I can walk.”

“I’m taking you to get help.”

“Derek,” Stiles said, trying to squirm free once more. None of the other betas were helping; Stiles wasn’t even sure any of them had followed. Angrily, he smacked at the man’s arm but that didn’t seem to do anything. “Derek! Put me down. I have a first aid kit at home and I can take care of myself, dammit—”

“Then we’ll go to your house.”

Stiles finally stopped moving. He peered up at Derek but the man didn’t even glance down at him. “What?”

“We’ll go to your house. But if I decide you need more than a first aid kit, you go to the hospital.”

Stiles considered that for a long moment. He supposed he could be dealt a worse hand. Because if Derek took him to the hospital then Melissa would be the one treating his injury, and Stiles’s dad was sure to get involved. 

And then he would be grounded for life. Probably.

Derek opened the door of his Camaro with one hand and carefully placed Stiles into the passenger side seat. Then he moved around the car and climbed in too, glancing over.

“Well?”

“Fine, but you don’t have to come,” Stiles said. “I can take care of myself.”

The man snorted and started the car. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“What about Roscoe?”

“I’ll take your keys and pick it up later.”

“Okay, first of all, don’t call Roscoe an it. Second of all, someone could steal her.”

“No one wants to steal your car,” Derek said. “Trust me.”

Stiles glared at him.

The rest of the drive to his house was silent. Stiles shifted and picked at his bloody sweatshirt until Derek growled at him to stop. After giving the man a glare, Stiles stared out the window instead, trying not to complain every time Derek hit a bump and it felt like Stiles was getting blasted into a tree again.

By the time they arrived at his house, he was feeling a little faint. His dad’s cruiser, thank goodness, was not in the driveway. 

Derek came around to the passenger side and looked like he was going to attempt picking Stiles up again. Glaring, Stiles batted his hands away and pulled himself out of the car. The world nearly tilted sideways as he did, but he was pretty sure Derek didn’t notice as Stiles fought to stay conscious and right-side-up.

Derek led him into the house. Stiles didn’t realize the man knew how to use a door.

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Kitchen,” Stiles said sulkily. “Underneath the sink.”

“Go upstairs,” the man ordered. “And turn on a shower. I’ll be up in five.”

Stiles looked at him for a long moment before sighing and turning around, trudging up the stairs. He figured this would probably go back quicker if he just didn’t argue with Derek. Even though the man was going completely ‘momma wolf’’ right now.

Well, that was a disturbing thought he was never happening again.

Except, Stiles didn’t make it to the bathroom. He got one hand on the knob of the door before the world was spinning, his vision got blurry, and Stiles’s last thought was ‘oh shit’ before he was hitting the carpet hard.

He heard footsteps racing up the stairs in seconds.

“Dammit, Stiles!”

Stiles thought that was completely unfair, as Derek dropped to his side and for the second time that night, scooped him into his arms. Normally, Stiles would be silently admiring the way his arms flexed and looked unfairly sexy, but right now, he just felt light-headed and a little sick.

Derek shoved open his door and laid him on his bed. Stiles’s complaint about blood getting on his comforter died on his tongue as the man peeled away his sweatshirt, claws slicing it all the way off his chest.

Derek was totally buying him a new sweatshirt at some point.

“You’re still bleeding.”

“That’s usually what humans do.”

Derek gave him a flat look and Stiles tried to smirk but he really did hurt. Grunting, the man moved back and slipped out his phone. In less than five seconds, he was on the phone with Melissa and giving Stiles the stink eye. As if the fact that they were here and not the hospital was all his fault.

Well…

“I don’t know how to do stitches,” Derek suddenly said into the phone. Stiles’s blood went cold and he sat up a little more.

“Uh, stitches? I don’t need stitches! No stitches for me.”

Derek shot him another dark look before turning away completely, so Stiles could only look nervously at his back. The man said a few more things that Stiles didn’t catch and then sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay, Melissa. Thank you.”

Stiles glared at him as the man turned back around. “You are not coming near me with a needle.”

“Melissa says it needs to be cleaned and stitched up.”

“I’m not a voodoo doll!” Stiles said, panic rising in his throat. “Or a blanket with holes. I do not need a needle poked into me, Derek!”

“Either you let me do it,” Derek said. “Or we go to the hospital and Melissa will have to call your father. She says it’s your choice.”

Stiles glared. That woman knew him too well. 

“My dad can’t know.”

“Then I’m doing it.”

“Do you even know how to use a needle?”

“I’ve sewed before.”

No, no way. There was no way Derek Hale, the grumpy Alpha of Beacon Hills had ever sewn shit in his life. Stiles refused to believe it. 

He didn’t realize he was staring, mouth agape, until Derek turned red and grabbed the first aid kit off of the desktop, moving over to the edge of the bed and sinking down at Stiles’s side. “My uncle’s fiancé liked to sew. She taught me.”

“... Peter had a fiancé?”

Derek looked a little sad. “Yes.”

So Derek knew how to sew, Peter had a fiancé, and Stiles was feeling like a mind blown idiot. He just stared at the man until Derek pulled a needle and surgical thread out of the kit and then Stiles was cringing into himself again.

“Derek, I don’t like needles.”

The man’s face softened. “Do you trust me?”

Stiles studied his face for a long moment. He could easily say ‘no’ or ‘never’ and to be honest, that would probably send Derek right away. But the thing was, that’d be a lie. Stiles knew that would be a lie. So silently, he nodded. Derek picked up a damp cloth and nodded toward the wound. 

“Then I’m going to clean that and stitch it up.”

“You must really hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Stiles,” the man said quietly. “Now sit still. If I have to knock you out to do this, I will.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said, snorting. “I can tell you’re feeling quite in love.”

The man didn’t answer, eyes fixed on Stiles’s chest. Stiles was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat for some reason, but he’d totally blame it on the cold of the cloth as Derek pressed it against his skin. He hissed, although it didn’t really hurt, and tried not to think about how bad a needle was going to feel.

By the time the blood was gone, the cloth was stained pink, and Derek was moving on, Stiles still wasn’t ready.

“Okay, hold on, hold on,” he said, scrambling back across the bed. Derek gave him a warning look but Stiles still didn’t move. “Are you sure we can’t just put a bandaid on it and check back for infection later?”

“No, Stiles.”

“Please? We can’t even give that a try?”

Derek gave him a flat look and started forward. Squeaking, Stiles tumbled off the end of the bed and started toward the door but a hand caught his arm before he could escape. Derek all but dragged him back to the bed and Stiles squirmed the whole way, throat starting to close up as panic crashed over him

“Derek, don’t do this. I don’t like needles, Derek, I don’t like them!”

“I can tell.”

“Derek, Derek you big lump, get off of me!”

The man pinned him down with a raised eyebrow and continued to ignore all of Stiles’s pleas and complaints. As he threaded the string through the needle, Stiles panicked all over again. 

“Okay, okay, okay, I changed my mind. I want to go to the hospital! They have anesthetic there, Derek. At least knock me out first!”

“It won’t take that many stitches,” Derek said. “Just hold still.”

“Derek!”

Stiles was pretty sure he did pass out. Because when he snapped back to reality prepared to yell at Derek with a litany of curses again, the man was moving back. Stiles blinked a few times and glanced down to see a couple of neat stitches across his chest. He peered at them and then looked back up at Derek, staring.

“Dude, you can sew.”

“I can. And I thought you said you trusted me.”

Stiles felt his face turn hot. Slowly, he pushed himself up, wincing slightly. Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles only chuckled nervously. “I, uh, don’t like needles.”

“You mentioned that. More than once.”

“... Thanks, Sourwolf.”

Stiles could’ve sworn a smile tugged at his mouth as Derek nodded. Chewing on his lower lip, Stiles ran a hand through his hair and glanced around. There was really nothing keeping Derek around anymore. The first aid kit was still open on the edge of his bed and there were a few spots of blood on the comforter. Stiles would have to clean that up later but that… that was his problem.

Derek seemed to notice that too, eyes flitting to the window. Apparently, the man just liked that more than the door or something.

“So, I could—”

“Dinner,” Stiles said, cutting him off. Derek’s eyes widened and he blushed. “I mean, we’ve been chasing that witch around all night and now… well, I’ve worked up an appetite. Do you want, uh, dinner?”

“Here?”

“I make some mean scrambled eggs, Sourwolf, if you’re okay with breakfast food.”

Derek’s eyes softened. Stiles was sure he did see a smile this time as the man nodded. Grinning, Stiles reached out, making grabby hands, and Derek’s smile ebbed away as he gave him a confused look. Stiles only smirked.

“Carry me downstairs, dude.”

“No.”

“But you’ve been carrying me everywhere else!”

Derek looked at him for a long moment. Then, sighing, he moved over and swept an arm underneath Stiles’s legs, hefting him off the bed. This time, Stiles was perfectly able to appreciate the muscles. He hummed happily and shifted around, catching what appeared to be Derek turning red.

Grinning harder, Stiles shifted again. Derek growled.

“I’m going to drop you.”

“But that would kind of negate all the earlier care, would it not?”

“Try me.”

Stiles rolled his eyes but went still. Derek was definitely blushing. And Stiles was so totally using that later. But right now…

“I do trust you,” he said. “You know that right?”

Derek glanced down. “I know.”

“And you trust me.”

The man didn’t answer. But Stiles was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“You also don’t hate me.”

“Stiles—”

“Okay,” Stiles said, resting his head on the man’s shoulder. “Just… thanks, Derek. You know. For showing me your epic sewing skills.”

“You were passed out the entire time.”

“Semantics.”

Derek chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. Stiles smiled himself, brushing his thumb over his stitches. They made it downstairs and headed toward the kitchen— right as Stiles heard the sound of a doorknob twisting. He blinked in confusion for a second, Derek went stock-still, and then the front door opened.

They both froze. In the doorway, Stiles’s dad did too.

Silence fell over the room. The Sheriff’s eyes flitted from Derek, to Stiles held bridal style in his arms, to his bare chest and fresh stitches. Then he blinked and reached up, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“One day, Stiles. Just one day I’d like to come home to a surprise like pizza or take out. Just one day.”

Yeah, Stiles was so getting grounded for life.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: "Put me down I can walk." and I've been wanting to write some Stiles vs needles for a while, so here we are! Of course, I'd love to hear what you guys thought. You all are fantastic!
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr?
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


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